Her hand flew to her heart in relief, but his face was thunderous. She stepped back from the door as he continued towards her.
“What is the meaning of this?” He waved his copy of the schedule around erratically over his head. Confused, Lisbeth looked from Oliver to her gathering staff then back to Oliver.
He growled at her blank look and shoved his soggy schedule in her face, his finger at a line. “There will be no need of Lord Bellamy’s services today? Services?”
Stunned into silence, she remained staring at the schedule in front of her. This is what had so upset him? It was written clearly enough, so where did the confusion lie?
“Are you trying to punish me for last night? Is that it?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Well, I don’t care. I will not apologize.”
She did not like his tone at all. Did he have any idea what she was going through here? No, of course not. How could he? It was why she had decided to do it alone, but perhaps she had been wrong to exclude him.
Watching him as he impatiently shrugged out of his coat and tossed it negligently towards her butler, Lisbeth couldn’t help but be reassured by Bellamy’s presence. His body had never scared her, even though he was a good head and shoulders taller than she. He usually held himself in such a way that it presented no threat to her. Now, worked up as he was, she couldn’t help but notice the power he held at bay. The width of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist and hips all seemed so much more dangerous today. His muscular legs were encased in buff-colored breeches and finished in a pair of top boots. Large boots.
Why was it she was so fascinated with the size of his feet? He seemed awesome in a way she had never bothered to notice before. It shocked and thrilled her.
“Well?” Oliver asked.
Lisbeth’s head snapped up from his feet.
“Because if you think for one moment I am going to—” Bellamy looked around and saw everyone in the hall was looking at him. He scowled. If his expression was meant to make her staff scatter, it didn’t work. Mrs. Rollands moved closer to Lisbeth and Rollands also took a step towards him.
“What the devil is going on here?” Bellamy ordered.
“My lord,” Rollands said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Oliver replied in a flat tone, “I’m not leaving.”
“My lord, you are not on the schedule. You were not needed today. Surely—”
“Really? Are you sure, Rollands?”
Rollands’s confusion showed briefly on his face. “Yes, my lord, I am.”
“Show me.” Oliver put his hand out to Rollands for the schedule.
Lisbeth watched as Rollands slowly took out his copy of the schedule, still crisp edged and folded neatly.
Oliver took a pencil out of his jacket pocket. “Thank you. Mine was a little soggy. Now… one hour spent in Nathaniel’s study,” he read, then leaning on the wall, added, “with Bellamy,” and handed it to Rollands.
Bellamy then turned, glaring at Lisbeth.
Having recovered somewhat from her shock, Lisbeth was now throwing him her most disgusted look. “You can’t do that!” she said, hands on hips. The nerve of the man!
“I believe I just did, now—”
“No!”
“No? But, Countess, it’s on your schedule,” he mocked with a raised brow.
“Just because you write it in doesn’t mean anything! Now, get out!”
“Is this about the armoire?”
She gasped.
“You’re not going to faint on me, are you? Threaten to shoot me? Oh, that’s right,” he smiled for effect, “I have your rather pretty little pistol, don’t I? In case you were fretting, it is safely out ofharm’sway.” He then leaned a little closer to her, whispering, “You areharm,by the way.”
“Oh! How dare you! How dare you come in here and… and… come in here and… my schedule… in my own house!” she heard herself screech. She knew none of that had even made sense. She was so angry and so confused by the fact he had just ruined her schedule with such ease, she didn’t know quite what to do withherself. Part of her was waiting for lightning to strike her down. The other part just wanted him to leave but he kept looking at her.
